always, i'll remember you
by elossa
Summary: "aren't you a brave one, jerome clarke?" / jerome & amber had only kissed five times in their lives, but they make a point to remember each and every one of them / jamber-centric; multiship / oneshot / rated t for swearing and minor adult themes.


_The first time he kissed her was his first._

Most of the newly initiated Anubis House residents were unaware of the fact that Jerome Clarke had never kissed anyone, never mind the fact that he was in Year Seven and too young to worry about such things. From the way he went about the corridors at school smirking at Year Tens as they rolled their eyes at him, they assumed he had _way_ too much experience.

So it was a rather abrupt surprise to Amber Millington when he came to her room one afternoon asking her to teach him how to kiss a girl.

Though she was surprised, she tilted her head curiously and realised that this should be made known to the school. She told the blond so, a gleaming smile adorning her face.

"You can't go around telling people that!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking, "that's why I want you to kiss me! So the statement will be invalid when it comes out."

"Your refutation isn't the only thing that matters in the world, you know," Amber frowned, folding her arms. A smirk crossed Jerome's lips. _Typical Millington._ "Besides,_ I've_ had my first kiss and it was extra slobbery. It was probably because Gary never had any experience either." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't understand why everyone likes to make such a big deal of it."

The blond moved across the room and sat next to her, hands firmly intertwined and his brows pleading. "Please, Amber? What if some super hot Year Nine asks me to go on a date with her and I don't know how to pucker up and I flinch?" He flailed his arms about. "You don't get hot Year Nines in Year Seven without skill!"

Her brows furrowed as his blue orbs seemed to grow larger. Her lips were ready to mutter a terrific, final no, but for some reason they wouldn't. Instead her cheeks blushed a pale shade of red and she nodded slowly, rolling her eyes for succumbing to such a dumb action. "Okay," she added, "but only because I want to make sure that when I finally date Mick Campbell, I'll be a much better kisser."

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Come on, Millington. We have to get it over with already."

"What kind of girl do you think I am, Clarke?" Amber countered, reciprocating the acerbic tone that had been present in her friend's voice. "I don't kiss just anyone, you know. I only kiss people that are worth the trouble."

"I _AM_ WORTH THE TROUBLE!" He put an arm around her shoulders, from which she swiftly jerked away. "We've been friends since we were in primary school. You were there when I first took ballet classes and I was there when you squealed your little heart out about a certain bookish, glass-sporting brunet which I'm sure Joy will be pleased to hear of – "

" – that never happened." Jabbing her index finger into his chest, she slowly pushed him back until he lay flat on the edge of her bed. She exhaled slowly, shutting her eyes. "I can't believe my standards were ever as low as Fabian Rutter."

"And no one will have to know if you do me this one little favour."

Even lying pathetically on his back, Jerome's puppy face – consisting of droopy eyes and pouty lips – managed to move Amber somewhat. Rolling her eyes once more, she folded her arms and said she would kiss him, on several conditions.

"One," she outlined, "you have to court me properly. Two, we have to go on a romantic date. Three, _you_ kiss _me_, not the other way round. Oh, and four, no tricks."

(Reluctantly) agreeing to these conditions, that was how Jerome found himself giving Amber a few flirtatious glances over breakfast the next day - and completely oblivious to Alfie's sudden mood swing. That was how he asked to hold hands with her and avoided making eyes with the older girls. (This was more to their relief than his.) In the middle of science, he had passed her a note made asking her out through the curious hands of Fabian Rutter and Patricia Williamson (who were _still_ making eyes at each other, the pair) which she pressed to her chest and eventually caused poor Mr. Sweets to ask her out in front of the whole class.

It was also how Jerome found himself later that week borrowing one of Mara's many picnic mats and stealing a basket out of Victor's office. He also dressed more formally than usual, clad in a polo shirt and a pair of proper trousers. As dusk settled, most of the preparations for the date were set. He even brought her out to the school garden blindfolded, her hand intertwined in his.

(If he wasn't doing it for the sake of his own name, the blond would've said she had very nice hands.)

"Oh Jerome, this is wonderful!" she exclaimed, quickly settling down on the mat and opening up the basket. The first thing she took was a banana, smelling it for any signs of treachery. As there seemed to be none, she peeled it from what Jerome would later refer to as the 'wrong edge' (but actually worked much quicker) and took a bite. "Real food, Clarke?" she remarked later on, "I am impressed."

"I'm not all pranks and women, Millington, just like you aren't all glitz and glamour," he remarked nonchalantly. That made the blonde's eyes widen for a moment in shock. "Oh Amber, your secret of getting all A's this year in maths, while telling everyone you've been failing terribly is safe with me."

Her eyes narrowed at him, which made his smirk widen. "Are you _blackmailing_ me, Jerome?"

"No, I'm just saying that I happen to know everything about everyone."

"You've made that prowess known a few times."

"And you say you've been failing English too?"

"I have!"

"You're not failing _anything_, Amber, not as far as this eye can see."

"Well, I'm failing science too, because Mr. Sweets still thinks I copied that answer off the Internet when I – "

A bout of courage sprung in Jerome's veins and he leaned in, closing the space between them. When his lips touched her, he could understand why people boasted about having done this before. It felt nice. She pulled away from him first, the kiss short and chaste, but it was enough to make her wonder enough to touch her lips.

"Aren't you a brave one, Jerome Clarke?" she quipped, though her tone was more confused than cutting.

He nodded.

In silence, they ate more of their food until they had had enough. Tired of the quiet, the blond turned to his blonde counterpart, who tried not to look back but gave him a furtive glance anyway.

"Does this mean I can break up with you now?"

That managed to gain her attention. Spinning her head dramatically, she shook her head, yelling a flabbergasted no. "I am Amber Millington, and I always do the breaking up and not the other way around," she proclaimed proudly, resting her chin on her knee.

"Now, can I break up with you, Jerome?"

Laughing, the blond nodded. "Okay, sure."

"Jerome Clarke," Amber began ceremoniously, her voice becoming haughty and her Cockney origins beginning to show, "I, Amber Millington, am breaking up with you. You are an insensitive little prick and that is why I do not want to date you any longer. Not only that, I'm sure you'll go out of your way to abandon me when that Year Ten girl finally does give you more than a passing look - "

He laughed even louder. "Okay, Jerome and Amber aren't a thing anymore. I get it."

"Like we ever were."

* * *

_The second time he kissed her may have had something to do with Patricia Williamson._

Actually, _everything_ to do with her.

Before Patricia became… well, Patricia, she and Joy could've been twins. They were both obsessed with Harry Potter and Panic! at the Disco, though they can barely mouth the lyrics to Nine in the Afternoon when Jerome – and somehow Amber – could. Not only that, they had been dying to play the game Seven Minutes in Heaven for the past several months, ever since they heard that they played it at some Year Eleven party.

"We only have to wait a year before we can join them!" Mara objected, "we're in Year Nine next year; we'll be old enough."

"But isn't doing it now a lot more fun than waiting?" Patricia chirped, asking the girls for their phones and tossing them in the tray. She wasn't the least bit caring about the fact that they were playing this game past curfew and Victor had not been in the best mood recently.

It was just their luck, then, that they were in the attic where no one could find them.

"Right," Joy announced, placing her hands on her lap. "We all changed our skins so it's difficult for everyone to know whose phone they got." She gave the boys a look, especially a particular brunet. "Okay, boys, close your eyes and pick a phone."

Fabian went first. After knocking over half the phones onto the floor, he managed to open his eyes once his hands were clasped around a flip phone – Joy's. Giggling, the brunette led him into one of the closets as he looked nervously in Mick's direction. Amber couldn't stifle her giggles as Alfie squealed around a cheetah printed phone. It was Mara's.

That left Mick, Patricia, Jerome and Amber sitting around the tray. Since Jerome wasn't making a move, it was up to Mick to remove a phone from the tray. As predicted, he was left with Patricia as they veered off to a secluded corner. For the first time since their 'break up', Jerome and Amber were alone.

"I am not going to snog you for seven minutes," the blonde declared, shuffling away from him.

Jerome opened his lips, but found them difficult to close again. He grinned at her, nodding fervently at her decision. "I can't imagine kissing you again anyway, Millington."

She raised a brow, "Are you saying I'm a bad kisser?"

A squeal came out from one of the corners before Jerome could answer. This made them both snigger. "No, I can say for sure that you are a good kisser."

"Yes, I would hope so. What can I say against the millions of other girls you decide to pleasure with your kissing."

"That sounds wrong. But as many girls as I've been out with for the past ten months, I've only ever kissed you."

It was too dark for Jerome to see the blush that was forming on Amber's cheeks. She knew it wasn't meant to be a romantic statement (and it wasn't), but why did it feel so… so lovely? She felt like she wanted to bounce off the moon and hug Mara and tell her she felt happy. It should be warranted, however, that she felt like this every time someone told her something sweet.

She was a nutter for compliments, really.

"Amber?"

"Yeah. I – I don't know what to say." She could hear the vague noises of conjoining lips from behind her: Mara and Alfie's corner. From the speed, they sounded particularly hesitant; that wasn't the least bit surprising. Curling her lips, she continued to gaze at the boy in front of her. "I think we should kiss a little bit, y'know, so they don't get all suspicious."

"I've got that covered," Jerome said, the thought barely flitting his mind before he leaned in to capture her lips. She could feel her hands slowly making their way towards his hair, pushing his head closer towards her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and she could feel her jerking away from him.

He broke their kiss and gave her a look of concern. "Amber, are you – "

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she replied hastily. She was panting, trying to catch her breath, "no one's – just – that was the first time – that – that anyone's ever put my hand 'round – 'round my waist – "

"You've never made out with someone before?" Jerome surmised. "You've had something like four boyfriends in the span of the school year before it's December, and you've never – "

"I never had a proper boyfriend; you don't really count and all the guys I dated failed miserably during their trial runs. Besides, making out seems kind of… scary. Especially if it was a lot like that." She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. "I prefer short kisses; you're less likely to die out of them." She cocked her head in thought, "Can you die when you kiss someone?"

Jerome shook his head. "Not to the best of my knowledge, though if I ever have to take a guess that's as likely as me snogging Mara Jaffray." They both gave each other awkward giggles, his hand clasped in hers. The jolt of warmth it gave him made him look at the simple gesture. "Do you want to try again, Amber? Or do you want to make kissy noises just to fool the rest of them?"

"As much as I'd like that, I'm not in the business of faking my snogging." She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into him again. "Slower, this time?" she asked against his ear, receiving a small 'yes' from him before her lips found their way to his.

Per Amber's wishes, they did take it rather slowly. Most of the first embraces were small pecks at best: chaste and almost friendly like their first kiss at the picnic. A few more times made them more comfortable with one another and their kisses grew deeper and slightly more passionate, their bodies pressed against one another like children trying to play at a married couple.

Someone snapped their fingers three times, and it signalled the end of their seven minutes. They pulled apart, but Amber continued to lie in Jerome's arms. He didn't mind in the slightest. It felt almost comforting for him as he looked at the mess he did to her hair and the tantrum she would throw in the morning.

A few minutes later, she and Mara were back in their room, snuggled in Amber's bed as they talked about the events that occurred previously.

"Was Jerome good?" she questioned, "I mean, he should be. He's dated a lot of people which should give him a lot of practice."

"He was, I suppose," the blonde replied, gazing up at the ceiling. "I enjoyed it, if that's considered good." Turning to her black-haired friend, she gave her a smirk, "And how was Alfie? We heard quite a lot of noise coming out of your corner."

"We were kissing for a bit, but then he got bored and made all these kissing noises," Mara giggled. "I got bored too, so I helped him out just for a little bit. It was kind of fun."

The next morning, Jerome clasped Amber's hand under the table, and she returned it with a questioning glance. He asked her out later that week, a proposal she accepted.

"You're not exactly my type, and you're going to fail that trial run," she began, though she tacked on a few words at the end of the sentence. "My lack of success with finding a suitable boyfriend has lead me to make this." She passed him a fluffy pink book with large neon-coloured letters glued to the front.

"The Amber Millington Guide to Dating?" Jerome frowned, though his eyebrows soon relaxed as he skimmed the contents of the book. "Well, I am going to pass that trial run and be your first official beau. You'll see."

He did, and on the weekend that he officially became Amber's Beau, Patricia dyed her hair red and became obsessed with a band called Sick Puppies.

* * *

T_he third time he kissed her was the last night they were together. Romantically, at least._

Jerome and Amber were the power couple in Year Eight – and later Year Nine – for about a year. If anyone wanted the epitome of a beautiful couple, it was them. If anyone was caught sneaking out during class to spend time with each other, it was likely going to be them. Every girl wanted a boy like Jerome who'd carry their bags and put their arm around her waist. Every boy wanted a pretty thing like Amber who had a nice laugh and dressed in nice clothes.

They were so cool they were almost always on every Year Eleven's guest list.

Only Joy and Mick managed to snatch invitations in Anubis House other than those two, and they rarely came. With Mick's puberty hitting earlier than expected and the curves Joy was slowly filling out some of the older students found it fitting that they should be around their potential to reach it. After all, it could be they could be hosting these parties one day.

The four of them were in a party one night, the girls giggling as they had drunk a couple of shots more than necessary. Mick was sober, of course, alcohol being bad for his physique. With pleasure, the blond took the liberty of taking care of the girls. The same could not be the same for Jerome, who was lazily flirting with some girl in Year Ten in the distance.

"Okay, Jer, that's enough," Mick beckoned, snatching his fellow Anubis housemate away from the girl and down next to his girlfriend. "I think we should all go home before things get really bad."

"But Miiiiiiiiick, I wanna dance," Joy frowned, and Amber squealed to second her motion. The drunken brunette dragged her blonde friend onto the dance floor, waving their arms about and screaming as the deafening music flooded their ears. Though they looked like they were having fun (and reasonably safe), Mick took no chances and dragged Jerome onto the floor as well. He wasn't having anyone taking advantage of his friends. Even if he was small, he made sure he could throw a good punch.

Tragically for the both of them, neither of them could dance, and compared to the girls' mildly suggestive dance moves they looked like clowns. Mick could understand why this was fun; it was very loose and casual and unlike anything he'd done before. As he began to laugh, he could see an older boy approach Joy and checking out her stuff. The blond shoved his way through the crowd, making sure that Jerome was within eyesight. A cutting remark he'd heard from Patricia did the trick.

"Okay, guys, we are all going home now." No one would know – let alone appreciate – the steady hand Mick had tonight in making sure most of his Anubis housemates returned home safe. Safe, but in the morning they would be fiercely hung over and pissed that they can't recall anything.

Thanking God he managed to persuade Fabian to sneak into Alfie's room post-curfew, and from the emptiness that hung about in his room he assumed that the plan went as discussed. In one bed he placed Joy and Amber, kicking at each other for more room. "Jer – Jerooooooooome," the blonde mumbled, punching at the air, "w – where's Jer_oooooooooooooooo_meeeeeeeeee…"

"Shh, he's here," Mick muttered, gently brushing her forehead until she fell asleep. When she was, he lifted her from the bed (which was _not_ an easy task) to the one adjoining it. It came as no surprise to the blond that she found her way into her boyfriend's arms within seconds, and the cute little smile on her face gave him a sigh of relief.

Since there was no other bed in the room, Mick knew he had to sleep on the floor tonight. This was one of the nights he was thankful he had Fabian for a roommate; he always had an emergency pillow and a thin blanket for his nights in library. He cuddled up in those trying to find some solace in his usually Amberful dreams, but his mind was still racing too fast for him to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the constellations that his roommate had plastered up and trying to remember their names in an attempt at a boring activity.

Turned out to be pretty fun, actually. The names were all funny, but it was actually a nice thing to do.

Before he could call himself fully asleep, he could hear mumbling from a bed. It wasn't Joy, as he could hear her signature snore. His eyes flicked over at Jerome and Amber. From the looks of it, it was definitely them.

"Jer – Jerooooooooome," she mumbled, "I – I saw you with Vera Pinches…"

"Nothing happened, Princess," he returned. Mick heard the impact of lips on Amber's forehead. "I assure you. She offered me a measure of her attention which I so kindly give back."

"But you never give me that kind of attention when _I'm_ drunk. You kind of ignore me, and sometimes it just feels like… like you're embarrassed of me."

"I'm not." Mick could hear them kissing, and it put knots in his stomach. He could see bits of it from where he was lying; their foreheads close together. Jerome broke away first.

"I – I think I love you, Amber."

"I love you too, Jerome, but unlike you I'm bloody sure of it." Her hand slid around his shoulder, thumbing his collarbone. "You'd think that after a year of being Jamber and a few months of _pretending_ to drink more than enough alcohol you'd _learn_ how not to stare at other girls while being with your girlfriend."

Well, that was a shocker. "I – I do love you, okay? I love you. I said it." There was a pregnant pause that somehow gave Mick the relief he needed to sleep, but as his eyes fluttered shut his ears refused to. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of loving you. Amber, we're _thirteen_. Do you know how short that is in the scheme of things? I might not love you two years from now and that is bloody scary for me. And I told you about Mum and Dad and Poppy. If you love me and my family doesn't then how do I know you love me for me and you're not just saying it?"

"Because I don't pull off a poker face all the time, unlike some people. And I love you for you, Jerome. You're my first real kiss, and my first real boyfriend, and my first love now, I suppose, and I'm grateful. Daddy said you're a keeper, whatever that means. You don't even play football seriously." Sigh. "Well, I'm sorry Jerome, but if you're not sure whether you love me or not it's best we… take some time out. I'm going to need a lot of space after tonight."

Mick's heart skipped a beat. He was sure he was sleeping now, especially if he swore he just heard Amber said to Jerome that she wanted to break up with him. From the cuddles they shared and the old married couple fighting (that's what Mara called it) it seemed like they would go out for the rest of their lives. Get married and have beautiful children. Oh, and be bloody rich of course.

"I don't want to break up with you, Ambs. Not now."

"Me neither. Though let's be clear that I always do the breaking up."

"You are cruel to me, Millington."

"Rest assured, it's only for our benefit. We can break up tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday, right?"

"No, Sunday; it's way past midnight."

Giggle. "I'm going to miss you, Jerome."

"I'm going to miss you too."

They lay in each other's arms for the night, and for that moment Mick could really believe it. But considering two months later he was the lucky soul with Amber in his arms and Patricia and Jerome were finally an item, they seemed like such simple words. If they never referenced their time together on a daily basis no one would've guessed they had a past.

* * *

_The fourth time he kissed her, he thought it would be his last._

It was over three years since the end of Jerome and Amber's relationship, and he was almost thankful for Nina – who had left by now - Eddie and their Egyptian adventures to keep her at bay. He was glad that Alfie finally got his chance with his golden girl and was putting it to good use. (Hint: They had gotten past first base. And second. And third.)

Rumours had flooded the House about Amber's soon-to-be absence. He'd eavesdropped on a conversation Fabian, KT, Alfie and Eddie had during supper and he saw the suitcases piling up behind her room. When Mara rushed into his room mumbling that Amber had simply gone from their room, he knew it had to be true.

"I think something's wrong," she whispered, burying her face onto his lap. The only thing the blond could do as she wept was brush her hair. With his growing thoughts on Willow, he barely kept tabs on the Scooby Crew. He knew that if things were wrong, it meant things were up again. He hadn't the heart to ask Joy what was going on or if she knew anything of it, not while Mara was crying.

"Talk to her," he counselled, "I'm sure she'd say a word or two to you."

"I can't find her, Jerome. You know I would if I could." She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply. "I wish I knew anything that went on, like how Joy disappeared and somehow came back during prom. I feel like I barely know them anymore: you know, Fabian and Amber and Patricia."

The guilt that he had built up over the years, for not speaking to her and actually trying to work out what the hell they were, spilled over. He still looked at her during his off days wanting her lips with his again. Swallowing, he offered, "Maybe I can try and roam school grounds to see if I can find her. If I do, and I'm gone for a while, I – "

"It's okay, Amber's… she's important to you, I get it. She loves you like a brother, and you love her like a sister even if you're too egoistical to admit it." Mara smirked, and her tone was almost devious. It brought a small grin to Jerome's face, and then hers. "I love you, Jerome Clarke."

Several hours later, hopping curfew for the millionth time, he found Amber staring blankly at the limo near the gatehouse. The location in which he found her was a curious one; no one ever went there as far as he could tell. And he could tell a lot.

She caught his silhouette within seconds, and crept slowly within the bushes. Surprisingly, she managed to be silent even if she was wearing three-inch heels. A broad smile decorated Jerome's face as he found hers, though she looked more worried than glad to see him.

"Jerome!" she hissed, whacking him on the arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Lifting his arm for self-defence, he finally rested it after nearly shrieking several times. "I'm checking on you for Mara," he answered, "are you okay? Everyone at the house is worried about you and frankly, so am I."

She rolled her eyes. "So much for going away quietly," she mumbled to herself, before her focus was back onto him. "No, I am sure as hell not okay. I'm going to leave the school for New York to the school of my dreams. I should be happy, but as you know with us it can't be as easy as luck now can it?"

He swallowed, only half understanding. "Leaving?"

"Yes, you dolt. I am - leaving England - for a good – period - of time." She gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head. "You'd think I'd deserve a glamorous exit after my antics, but Miss Denby insisted that I kept things between the… many of us, excluding you."

Jerome did something he hadn't done since that drunken night. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder, something she slowly but surely returned. She held him tight enough to cut off his air supply, and mentally he snickered; she hadn't changed a bit.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he questioned, parting with her.

"I'm deathly serious about such things, unlike some people, Clarke," she snapped back, refusing to make eye contact with him. "I suppose this is goodbye, I suppose."

"Goodbye."

Amber gave in to her desire to hug him, and leaped at him with her arms wide open. He received her as fervently, and wrapped his arms around her with no desire to let go. She had been one hell of a rollercoaster: his oldest friend, his first girlfriend and his most trusted companion even now. The blond could never tell her - it would be in violation of his code – but he hoped she knew.

She looked way too nervous to be leaving. Jerome would ask her what was wrong, but as he experienced first hand the Crew's antics were best left alone. He tangled his hands through her hair for the final time. Shiny, soft and supple, he was glad that she hadn't changed in that respect.

Amber let go. "I – I've got to go, Jerome."

"Don't. Give me a minute."

"I don't have much longer," she fought, "I have to meet the others. I have to tell Alfie what I haven't told him for too long – "

"I know I'm not in it, Amber, but that doesn't make me any less important, does it?" He looked at her with the desperate eyes he'd offered Rufus, or Poppy, or Alfie. But he'd never felt the need direr than now. Her lack of reply made his heart sink. _"Does it?"_

"No, no it doesn't," the blonde mumbled. For once, she was strong enough to look at him square in the eye. "I love you, Jerome and I always will. You were my everything once." She wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it gently. "I don't want to say goodbye."

"Me neither."

Jerome leaned down – fucking height differences – and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. Amber returned it, never one to turn a good snog down, but she pulled away before it could become anything more than chaste. "You should go back to the House now, beau. I have to meet the others."

He nodded, and he wished he could chalk up the courage to say something – anything – as he watched her hop away into the distance.

For the next few days, he managed to hide his mourning well. As much as he wished he could be clad in black like Willow, everyone would notice something was up. Joy tried to wear the clothes she left behind, but Jerome told her she was wearing it all wrong. It wasn't personal, but if those clothes were not meant for her then she should not be wearing them.

Even when Joy was deep in Jerome's heart, he never regretted thinking that when she was clad in Amber she was a mere carbon copy of her. Because minus the floral scent and the spurts of intelligence and the sunny disposition, she was.

* * *

_The fifth time he kissed her, he'd expected (wanted) to see her again._

In one of his many breakups with his probable second, maybe third, not-so-definitely last love, he was in New York. He'd graduated with slightly mediocre A Level results, but it was enough to send him to New York University. His major? Theatre, obviously.

He loved how bright and vibrant the city was twenty-four hours of the day. Joy wasn't even on his mind as he went club hopping with his mates every second night. There were too many sights to enjoy bothering with bad blood.

One winter night, he was walking down one of the many streets he never knew the name of. Unlike most days he was alone; he didn't feel sociable that night. An important exam was coming up and he hadn't been taking his courses too seriously, so a catch-up was in order. Across the pond he was glad that Alfie's Computer Science course was doing him well.

Jerome couldn't help but notice a blonde who was blended with a posse of similar-dressed blonde. They were all tailing a tall brunette with her sunglasses blocking her eyes and wearing heels the height of a large stool. Frowning, he gave her a curious look. She lifted her sunglasses off and smirked at him, something that he shyly returned.

"You shouldn't be out here alone in the winter air," she offered flirtatiously, sauntering close to him.

"Nor should you or your friends," Jerome replied in a smooth Midwestern accent, his eyes landing on a nearby bistro, "do you want to go inside?"

"Sure," she crooned, flicking her hand. Soon, the gaggle of women all rushed inside. Following suit, the blond trailed after them, his eyes still set on the mysterious blonde. The sheen of her hair seemed all too familiar, but he was insistent that it was all some sort of sick hallucination. Many blonde girls had shiny hair.

Flicking through the menu, Jerome tried to find the face that lay beyond the curtain of blonde hair. It was just his luck that he happened to sit right opposite her. Next to him was the leading lady – who'd identified herself as Taisia – and she was pressing her body against him.

"I – I'm not interested," he whispered softly in her ear. Her smile quivered for that one blink of a second, but she kept her cosmetic white teeth showing. "But I will pay for all of this."

"It's okay, James!" she exclaimed, laughing a little too loudly for his taste. "You're a real nice guy, you know."

They ate most of their meal in silence, most of the conversation Taisia's ridiculous rambling about some Upper East Sider who had an affair with one of her inferiors. It was obvious that by the blonde's reaction, she was only pretending when the shockwave of surprise surged through the dinner table. Jerome only made a quiet remark, which no one could hear except the blonde.

"Why are you laughing so hard, Amber?" Taisia deadpanned, giving the blonde – who now had a name – a glare attached with a thousand daggers.

"Jerome said something funny," she giggled.

The brunette rolled her eyes, passing Jerome a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry, love. Amber Millington here is a recent British import and despite her worthy family she has yet to understand the etiquette surrounding dinner tables."

"Amber Millington?" Jerome echoed, almost in relief, "of course she's from a worthy family. And considering I too am a recent British import she is of more worth to me than you ever will be. You don't blame someone's _origins_ for their faults." He stood up from his place at table and gently took Amber's wrist. "Haven't seen you in a while, Ambs."

They took no notice as they left the bistro, Amber's eyes beaming. Jerome gave her a high-five before they shared a hug that ended with him lifting her up into the air. She squealed, her nails clawing onto his back. Placing her back onto the trottoire, they began to take a slow walk around Manhattan.

"What on earth are you doing with people like that? You should be telling them what to do, not the other way around."

"That won't matter because they won't speak to me again after tonight, but I'm actually glad about that." Linking her arm with his, Amber closed her eyes and dusted her skirt. "School's been tough, and I'm actually feeling good about passing. I don't have to lie about it because no one thinks I'm cheating; they can see what I've done in class."

Jerome nodded, "Yeah, I still remember the shock it gave me when you called saying you got an A in maths a couple of years ago."

"And Fabian barely tutored me! I just let him because he needed to feel intelligent after Nina struck him dumb just by her presence, and later absence." Oak-coloured eyes met ocean ones. "Can I just stay at your place for the night? I share a dorm with them and I feel kind of uncomfortable after… well, you know."

"No, no it's fine," he replied, turning right. "We're nearly there, anyway."

Grinning, Amber began to skip, and Jerome had to walk that tiny bit faster just to keep up with her. It made him laugh. Next to her, he'd always felt like a penguin compared to the ethereal grace she had no effort putting on. Ironically, he was the best male dancer in Anubis House if Alfie was still as clumsy as he remembered.

Entering Jerome's en suite loft made Amber feel a little poorer than she usually felt, but the feeling did not linger for long. Most of the walls were tiled brick vandalised with artsy graffiti she had no doubt Jerome had drawn. She knew his artistic talent better than anyone else with the probable exceptions of Mara and Joy, and was glad that he put it to good use. When she found his laptop she squealed, mostly because she never thought lofts could have Wi-Fi.

"Ooh," she whispered, "Jerome, can I see your music?"

"Are you sure you're not going through my e-mails? Texts?" he quipped, and she shook her head ardently. "Sure." Tapping his password into his laptop, he left to get changed while she decided to browse his iTunes playlists.

"You have nice music taste," Amber mumbled. Her eyes scanned the words 'Arctic', 'Bastille', 'Nirvana'… all names she knew and was familiar with. After she got bored with those she decided to venture through his playlists. There was one marked 'Always', and that ignited her curiosity.

He sat next to her on his bed, pointing at it. "You can listen to it, you know. I don't mind."

Clicking the first song on the playlist, she found that it did have a catchy tune, but something about it threw her off. "I thought Panama was a country, Jerome," she frowned. "I never knew that it was a band."

"Two different things, Amber," he remarked, tapping his foot to the rhythm. Mouthing the words, he stood up next to the bed and began dancing. Amber observed it with sceptic eyes, raising a brow. Soon enough, she shrugged her shoulders and began dancing along with him, grabbing his hand and spinning him around.

"Deep down, you said I was a coward when it comes to love," Jerome sang, and though he couldn't call himself a decent singer he had always gotten the tune right. Amber's glee faded slightly as she was reminded of a conversation surrounding the same theme but she was to make sure Jerome was having none of it.

As the songs went on they got slower, and slower, and slower. The final song was named Sea of Love who was sung by a woman named Cat Power. Amber had never heard of it before, but she loved it. Its sluggishness meant that she ended up in Jerome's embrace, swaying back and forth like leaves in a gentle breeze. For the first time, she could remember what it felt like to be safe and not in the brink of a deadline.

Though they were mostly silent, it was Jerome who posed the first question. "Do you think we would've had this much fun meeting up in New York like this if we stuck together back in Year Nine?"

"I don't know, maybe. I mean, there's nothing wrong with now it's just that I'd rather have it if I was with – "

" – Alfie?"

"Yeah."

The song ended, leaving their thoughts as the only melody. "I'm sorry about me, back then. Trusting you seemed like a stretch, let alone loving you."

"Loving you was a stretch," she replied, "but I'm glad that you've found Joy. Even if you two do have the most ridiculous relationship Anubis House has ever seen and will ever see. From what I've heard, you two are the perfect couple."

He laughed. "Yeah, but we've broken up so many times I've lost count."

She rolled her eyes, her arms still wrapped around him. _Typical Clarke._ "Listen, the past was the past. When Alfie told me he loved Willow I knew I had to move on. It's hard, but I'm trying and I hope I'll get there."

"I'm trying to get over Joy too. It's harder when you still talk to Patricia."

"They say that the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else," Amber abruptly announced, "I might sound a bit forward but do you mind testing that theory with me?"

It _was_ sudden, but he kissed her before she could take it back. Their previous kisses had been so calm, so rehearsed, but she could feel her veins surging and a fire in her loins that she'd only felt several times with Alfie. She pushed him against the wall, her fingers slowly undoing his buttons before tossing his shirt aside. He fought back, his hands snaking underneath her shirt.

The next morning, she awoke with one arm splayed across his chest. His skin was warm, and she couldn't evoke an image the last time she saw him so peaceful. Her fingertips traced the outline of his heart as they grazed his being. This woke him, and he clung onto her long, thin fingers.

"I still have feelings for you, but you know I can't hold onto them," he admitted shyly.

"I do too," she replied. "It's a bit of a relief to be able to say that, isn't it?"

They gave each other the most wan, sad smiles they'd ever given each other. One who knew them both knew that their smiles were more likely to light the room than dim it, and at this point they were doing neither. At that present he was her best friend and she his.

Again, she was the one to let go. "I – I have to go," she mumbled, sitting up and dressing herself. "See you around?"

"See you."

* * *

_The sixth time he kissed her, they were in heaven._

It was perfect.

* * *

**_A/N: I thought that there was an extreme lack of Jamber one-shots, so I decided to write one of my own with a pint of crackships. The songs referenced are Always by Panama, and Sea of Love by Cat Power. I hope you like this, and please leave reviews and/or fave if you do! And if you want, suggest a pairing I can do one-shots of._**

_**EDIT 15/8: I have given in to making a playlist for this fic. If you want to listen to it, you can find it here: 8tracks cupofankh/ your-words-changed-my-mold**_

_**I WOULD LOVE TO THANK DANCING THROUGH DAISIES FOR HER LONG REVIEW! I can't PM you which is frustrating, so here's a reply to it! Part of the reason I wrote this was because to me, there were too many plot holes and unanswered questions, like how does Jerome know so much about Amber and vice-versa? They do stand up for one another quite a few times. I highly doubt Jerome is the kind to trust people with people as incriminating as Poppy (I personally don't think she's incriminating, but Jerome does so I'm going with that) so easily unless they meant a lot to them. Yes, Amber could have found her by accident, and I kindly quote Definition of a Writer's **_**Scarred**_**: my shipping gets in the way of my logic. I thank you so much for everything.**_

_**Oh, good news - I think - I'm planning a multichapter HOA fic. It won't be Amber-centric, more like multi-charrie centric. It will be told from the point of view of most characters that are in the house in the end of Season 2, and it is a Season 3 AU. I plan to keep it realistic so no Egyptian mysteries there, folks. Though I should get round to one, shouldn't I?**_


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